


Nothing Left to Lose

by persephonereigns



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M, Shameless Smut, Smut
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-11-16
Updated: 2018-11-05
Packaged: 2019-02-01 11:10:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,836
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12703803
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/persephonereigns/pseuds/persephonereigns
Summary: Sansa loses her mind and all propriety.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is just wrong. So wrong.  
> Sorry not sorry.  
> The Hound does not leave Kings Landing after the battle of Blackwater. Sansa is aged up.

Sansa Stark stood on her balcony picturing all the comings and goings in the wretched capital below, her mind wonderfully blank. She could hear men training in the yard, stable boys shouting, and the soft crash of waves from Blackwater Bay.

Blackwater... The Hound had come to her that night. Her head had been fuzzy from terror and the wine that the queen had made her drink. At first, upon realizing the Hound was in her room she had been terribly frightened, unable to move when he grabbed her and pulled her to him. His unfortunate face covered in blood and, oh, his eyes, how cruel his eyes had seemed as they burned into her, rooting her to the spot. She could still see him in her minds eye, illuminated in the green haze from the wildfire. He'd had a feral look to him, an animal caught in a trap, oozing desperation. He'd pinned her to the bed and held a blade to her throat, demanding a song. And so she had sang, reaching out to him, her fear melting away. She came to realize that night, that despite his ferocity and harshness, he would never harm her. Yet he had left her there, alone, with only his white cloak. She had huddled underneath it until the dawn had come, and death had not. The battle victorious thanks to the Tyrell host and Tywin Lannister.

It had been several weeks since that night, and to Sansa's immense relief her betrothal to Joffrey was set aside. Joffrey will marry Lady Margaery of house Tyrell now. And so it seemed for the moment she had been forgotten. She was still a caged little bird, but was no longer guarded as heavily and was free to roam as she wished so long as she stayed within the castle walls. Tyrion Lannister had somehow put a stop to her public beatings as well. Joffrey was too busy planning his wedding and Margaery to bother with her now, yet an unnamed terror still loomed. He had said so himself not long ago. She was still his plaything, and while circumstances for Sansa were as good as they were ever going to be, she was not free, and she had no hope of being free. Her family was not going to come to her rescue, they were all gone, Father, Arya, Bran, Rickon, Mother and Robb. Jon, was far off at the Wall. She was truly alone in the world, and she had rejected the Hound's offer. Her last hope had been in the foolish drunkard Ser Dontos, but that faith withered every day. Her faith in anything at all withered every day.

She has not seen the Hound since the blackwater burned. She has not heard any rumors. She has no idea what became of him, and she found herself thinking of him more times than she would like to admit. She found herself missing his hulking, formidable presence beside Joffrey. Even missing the way he always seemed to catch her off guard, materializing out of nowhere. The man was uncouth, full of rage, undoubtedly terrifying, but he had always tried to help her, in his own misguided way. Much too late did she realize what an unlikely friend she had in Sandor Clegane. She wondered if he'd escaped, been taken prisoner, or if he'd been killed... that thought always left a lump in her throat. Without fail, her thoughts would lead to him often, and not for the first time, she wished she had left with him that night. 

On a whim, or maybe it was finally madness overtaking her, she decided to find out exactly what had happened to the Hound. She simply had to know. She left her chamber right then, before all courage fled her. Sansa scurried down the Serpentine, heart beating wildly in her chest. She had to find a way out of the castle. She went flying down several pairs of staircases, down and down, until no more light could be seen and only torches lit the walls, then eventually, only blackness. 

Sansa lost track of how long she'd been down there stumbling in the dark, but she remembered Arya telling father of how she had managed to find herself outside the castle walls, below the black cells. And so she prayed she could find her way out as well. As she went deeper into the bowels of the Red Keep, the air became quite chilled and she began to smell seawater. There was no longer stone floor under her, she was walking along very slippery, jagged rocks. She had stumbled and fallen several times. Her slippers were already torn and soaked through. Her hands, feet and knees tender and bloody. Her dress damp and coated in slime. She had to be close to something, but perhaps that was only wishful thinking. She followed the rushing sound of water. Finally, up ahead she could make out daylight, but the ground sloped down too steeply here and the waves came crashing in. She would not be able to just walk out. She would need to swim. Sansa hesitated, should she risk going back? Should she risk going forward? Her moment of bravery, or stupidity, whatever you name it, was rapidly fading. She knew though that she couldn't stay here long, for the tide surely filled these tunnels.

Sansa took a deep breath and jumped. The cold instantly stole her breath away, the waves were much stronger than they looked. She fought and kicked with all her strength, cursing her heavy skirts. Finally breaking the surface, sputtering and coughing, she found a rhythm and paddled out of the cave, trying to figure out where she was. The Red Keep loomed behind her, Blackwater Rush to her right. She chose left, and swam towards the Iron Gate and Flea Bottom. After a time her stomach began to cramp painfully, but she had nearly reached the shore.

Feeling utterly depleted she clawed her way to the sand and collapsed, dragging in deep, shuddering, lungfuls of air that burned like wildfire. She imagined herself a mermaid and laughed right out loud like a madwoman. The realization of what she had done hit her suddenly and she laughed all the more. She wondered, not for the first time, if she were losing her mind.

Sansa wasn't sure how long she lay there catching her breath, but now the sun was down far in the sky and she knew they would be closing the gates soon. She needed something dry and less fine to wear. She got to her feet and attempted to brush off the sand that clung to her but it was hopeless. Picking up her waterlogged skirts, she made her way off the beach and onto the road. Peasants had set up crude shelters not too far outside the gate, so she headed that way.

Bold as you please, she entered their camp. She got many confused stares as she walked around, looking for a girl around her size. She knew this was a dangerous game to play, but she had no choice now. She must see this foolhardy plan through. 

Finally she spotted a young woman washing clothes.

"Excuse me?" Sansa asked the girl quietly. 

The girl looked Sansa up and down. "You fall in the sea... m'lady?" 

Sansa chuckled nervously, "Yes, something like that. I was wondering if you had another dress that I could possibly trade you for, please?" 

The girl looked at Sansa, guessing her size. "Aye, I have one might suit you, follow me." She gestured behind her to a nearby little hut, and gestured for Sansa to follow her. 

Inside the hut was quite cramped, Sansa could not stand upright and had to nearly bend in half. It had only a small sleeping pallet. There was hardly room to turn around. The girl was digging into a sack on top of the pallet, pulling out a plain wool dress, she handed is to Sansa.

"Thank you, so much..." Sansa paused and the girl piped right up, "Pat, M'Lady."

"Thank you so much Pat, this is very kind of you." Sansa was certainly grateful, "Do you mind if I change in here?"

"O'course not, go right ahead, and no problem at all. I think I'm getting the better end of the bargain miss." She winked at Sansa and Sansa smiled, "I suppose you are." 

Sansa undid her wet gown, peeled it off and handed it to Pat, who stepped outside to wash and hang it to dry. It may be a little salt stained, tears in the fabric only a bit of mending would fix, it would still be a fine, well made dress. Her small clothes were sticking to her uncomfortably but there was no helping that. Thankfully the dress could be pulled right over your head, so she slipped it on, tying the smock behind her back. She wondered what to do about her hair. 

Peeking outside the curtain that served as a door to the hut she asked Pat if she had a cloak or even a scarf for her head. Pat grabbed a large strip of cloth hanging from the hut and held it up. "This do?"

Sansa nodded and took it, twisted her damp hair up and tied the cloth around and over it. She patted all around and decided her hair was adequately covered. "I hate to beg again, but do you happen to have any boots?" Again, Pat sized her up and told Sansa she would be right back. A short while later Pat emerged with a pair of brown boots only slightly too large. Sansa slipped them on quickly. Grabbing Pat's hand and thanking her once again, Sansa was off, headed towards the Iron Gate.

There were two guards posted and checking travelers, Sansa's heart began to beat furiously. She had to be utterly insane. She wondered again what, exactly, she was doing. If they caught her, Joffrey would have her head, just like father. She was in line behind an older common man. His belongings were searched, and then he gave the guards some coin, and was let through. Sansa had no coin but she was wearing the necklace Joffrey had given her. She hoped it would be enough to grant her entry into the city. She had no bag to search and the guard looked at her curiously with only a slight hint of hostility. She held out a shaky hand to him, the golden necklace dangling from her fingers. He snatched it from her, bit it, then waved her through, adding it to the collection in his pocket. 

Once she was through the gate she sighed in relief, silently thanking the Gods. She couldn't believe she had actually pulled all this off! She had escaped the Red Keep, survived the sea and made it past the City Watch! She felt a rush of astonished pride. It was almost as if she were in a dream, and she worried she may wake up soon. If only Arya could see her now. She would never believe it, Sansa hardly believed it herself. The Gods had to be smiling on her to have managed to even get this far. She just prayed they stayed with her. 

Now she only had to figure out where to go from here. She did not want to go directly through Flea Bottom so she decided to skirt the outer edges. Her first idea was to visit a tavern for gossip but without coin she most likely would not be welcome for long. Walking briskly she kept her face aimed at the ground and prayed no one would recognize her. She had no clear plan, and so she just kept walking. Trying to catch snippets of conversation, and remaining unnoticed. 

Sansa walked until the soles of her feet ached and her calves burned and twilight settled in. Her body was not used to this amount of activity and her pace had slowed considerably. She grew wearier by the moment. Remembering but another time that she had ventured outside of the castle walls. The shrieking crowds, the man with garlic on his breath, the blood spray and oh how the Hound had laughed. 

It was fully dark now and Sansa still had nowhere to go. Unable to go any further, she saw a red lantern up ahead, girls were whistling and calling out to men as they passed, she knew exactly what lie ahead. It was a huge risk. Could she trust these type of women? She doubted it, but what was worse, going in there or staying out here in an alley all night?

As Sansa deliberated internally, someone bumped bodily into her, she lurched forward and caught herself on the wall, just short of falling to the ground. 

"Watch where you're going wench." A harsh voice called back to her. 

Sansa's head shot up. The man had paused to drink deeply from a wine skin. He was gigantic, and she would know that voice anywhere. By all it Gods, it was him! Sansa stared in shock at his back, her mouth hanging open most unladylike. Of all the possible outcomes she had imagined, this was the last thing she ever expected. It was more than she could have hoped for, literally running into him! Well, he had run into her, nevertheless... Sansa stood there floundering, caught completely off guard. Then he was moving again, and she hastily began to follow after him. As soon as she had started though he stopped suddenly when one of the women reached out to him, grabbing him by his tunic. He glared at her and Sansa could have sworn she heard him growl. Yet the woman was insistent, she leaned closer, Sansa heard her call him by his moniker, claiming that she could tame the wild beast. He took another pull from his wine skin and then followed the smiling woman inside. 

Sansa was stunned. She could feel heat creeping up her face, it spread throughout her entire body, even down to her toes. A feeling she had never felt before overcame her. Burning with unwarranted jealousy, squeezing past several girls in the doorway, Sansa hurried to follow them inside. 

The space very was dimly lit, candles burned low, her nose burned from the incense burning all around. Several men were lounging on settees piled with pillows and sheer fabrics, drinking and laughing while topless women draped themselves over them. There was no sign of the Hound, or which way he had gone. Sansa could hear loud cries coming from the back. Burning with mortification she pressed on, no one seemed to pay her too much mind. At the back of the main area, through an archway, there was a long hallway with rooms lining either side. Sheer curtains hung in the doorways. Privacy was a stranger here it seemed. She walked slowly down the hall, eyes wide, seeing things no maiden should ever see. Men rutting like animals, women crying out with abandon. Was this truly how men found their pleasure? Her mother and septa would be horrified, Sansa Stark inside an establishment such as this. She couldn't take anymore. Overwhelmed, drained mentally and physically, she rushed back outside, tears streaming down her face.

The air felt amazing on her flushed skin and she gulped it down as she cried. What had she done? What was she doing here? She sat on a crate nearby and succumbed to her misery.

With her head buried in her hands, she didn't see the Hound exit the pleasure house shortly after, but she did hear the curses from the woman. 

"Aye, fuck you too ye bloody cunt." Sandor roared as he stormed away from the brothel. Sansa gasped and jumped to her feet. Sandor was quickly making his way down the alley now, and Sansa was having trouble keeping up with his great big strides. He strode down two more alleyways, up a big hill, took a left, then a right, stopped in front of a small house tucked between two larger ones, produced a key and stepped inside, slamming the door.

Without much thought, Sansa huffed up and knocked on the door. At first she heard nothing, so she knocked louder. 

"Go away!" The Hound bellowed from somewhere inside. Sansa knocked again, even louder. This time, booming footsteps thundered to the door, until it was wrenched open violently, "This better be bloody - " Sansa just stood there, she couldn't speak. 

"The fuck?" The Hound's look of confused astonishment was priceless. Sansa began to laugh, her nerves fraying. Sandor took one look around and yanked Sansa inside, shutting the door behind them, and then he rounded on her.

"What in the seven bloody Hells are _you_ doing here?!" 

"Well, I - I, well..." 

"Spit it out girl! How did you get here? Why are you dressed like that?" Gritting his teeth, he spat, "Talk. Now." 

"I decided... You see, well... I have run away."

It was Sandor's turn to laugh now, cruel and harsh. "You ran away? But you're still here in Kings Landing, why did you come _here_? What were you bloody thinking? You really are a stupid bird, you could've been killed!" Sandor pounded a nearby table making Sansa jump. He was really quite drunk. This had not been a wise decision at all. She had not planned on any of this, though she wondered if she had planned her escape, would things have gone accordingly anyway? What exactly was she doing again? She had wanted to figure out what had happened to the Hound. What was she going to do now that she had? It was much too late to try and go back to the castle, not that she wanted to one bit. She also doubted she could make it safely out of the city a second time. Was she even safe here? She had been incredibly lucky thus far. She really should have thought this out better. What a foolish endeavor. Sansa's face reddened in shame, and tears pooled in her eyes. She was so exhausted. 

"Yes, you are correct, I wasn't thinking. At all. This was an entirely stupid idea. I _am_ just a stupid girl. I had only... Oh, never mind! I'll just go. I'm very sorry to have bothered you!" With tears running down her face Sansa turned around to open the door and flee back into the night but the Hound stopped her, his hands slamming the door shut.

"Like hell you're going back out there all alone at this hour! You must be out of your mind! Is that what you want girl? Someone to snatch you up, or worse?"

Something inside Sansa snapped and she _pushed_ him, hard. Not that she could move a brick wall such as him, but it felt good. And so she pushed him again as hard as she could, tried to a third time as well but he grabbed her arms, pinning them to her sides and shook her gently.

Sandor softened his tone leaning down to her. The stench of wine was strong. "Little bird, what's happened? What's made you run away? Did Joffrey hurt you again? I told you I'd kill anyone who dare tries to hurt you and I meant it, even that little cunt." Sansa shook her head, eyes wide. Sandor searched her eyes, and suddenly he realized she was meeting his gaze steadily. No flinching, not an ounce fear. He could see that she was angry, and ready to collapse at any moment, but that was all. It unnerved him. 

He sighed in defeat. "It's all right little bird, come here." He let go of her arms and led her to a chair near a Wood stove. "Are you cold? I could light a fire..." He hesitated and Sansa could tell he didn't really want to. 

"No, thank you, that's alright. If you have anything to drink I would be very grateful. I left this morning and I am terribly thirsty." Sansa looked up at him smiling politely. Sandor rubbed the back of his neck. "All I have is wine little bird." 

"Wine would be fine, I'd drink just about anything right now. Even fermented goat's milk like the wildlings!" She giggled and Sandor smirked. The tension abated after that.

"Very well then." Sandor turned to grab a mug from the shelf and poured Sansa some wine from his flagon.

He was still shocked that Sansa Stark had appeared out of nowhere on his doorstep. He didn't think he'd ever really see her again, not up close anyway. 

Tywin had dismissed Sandor's services to the royal family for deserting the king and the battlefield. Not that he was real broken up about that loss of course. At least they hadn't lopped off his head or locked him in the black cells. He had been removed from the White Sword Tower and had to move down to shabby, smelly, Flea Bottom. Still, it could've been worse. He'd gotten off lucky. Tywin had even given him another job. The Hound's skills being too valuable to let go of just now. He was now a bounty hunter for the crown. He'd been gone for over a week rounding up traitors, thieves, rapists and the like. He had only just returned yesterday. 

Now though, the little bird sat in his tiny shit of a house sipping delicately at his wine as if at court. He wondered what the fuck he was going to do with her. If she was caught here they'd both be put to death. That was certain. Harboring fugitives to the crown was quite another matter. 

Her eyes were heavy and she was swaying in her chair. Looking as though she'd been through all the seven hells. Maybe she had. He was very curious as to what she had been through since the battle. What exactly had made her decide to escape? 

Sandor gently shook Sansa's shoulder, "Little bird? Time for bed, you're falling asleep on the spot."

"Oh yes, sorry, I'm just so tired, today has been very... trying." Sansa yawned wide, covering it with a small fist and Sandor's mouth twitched as he tried not to smile. "You can have the bed of course, My Lady." Sansa looked up at that, surprised to hear the title from his lips, then smiled when she saw the look on his face. Sansa held out her hand, "Why thank you, kind _ser_." Sandor actually chuckled at that, grasped her hand, and helped her up. Since when did Lady Stark banter with the Hound? Everything was all topsy turvy. This has been a night for the books indeed. He shook his head, gesturing to a doorway, "My room is just right around the corner there. There's a privy in the back as well. Good night little bird." 

Sansa looked back, pausing in the door way, "Good night... Sandor." And then she slipped slowly around the corner, a moment later his bedroom door shut softly. Shortly after that he could have sworn he heard snoring. The little Lady of Winterfell snores? Now who would believe that?


	2. Chapter 2

Sansa woke with the rising sun, though it was still mostly dark. At first she was confused, as she had not woken in her own bed. Nothing was familiar to her. Her head was buried in a rather prickly straw pillow that smelled of dust, sweat, and something else she could not name. Sansa sat up groggily, a thin wool blanket had been draped over her and it pooled in her lap. The fog of sleep was quickly leaving her. Her limbs were aching. She remembered her adventure yesterday with a groan. 

Laying back down, doubts and worry gnawed at her belly as she bit her lip in contemplation, fingers anxiously working the material of the blanket. Not only was she a fugitive, she was in the Hound's bed for Seven's sake! Had she actually slept in his bed? What would her mother think? 

Coming upon him, and in such a place, was still rather unbelievable to her as well. She wondered what he was doing right now. Her fingers gripped the blanket. Flashes of last night would not leave her head. The things she had seen in the pleasure house were disturbing, and she had to admit, a little intriguing. Sandor hadn't been inside very long, surely not long enough to... complete his task. She wondered what had happened in there. She sat up once again and shook her head. What was she even thinking about that for? Sansa quickly got out of the Hound's bed, tried to smooth her wrinkled dress in vain, then made her way to the small living area.

The Hound was half propped against the door, half slumped on the floor, a flagon still clenched in his hand. The floor creaked as she stepped closer. Slowly one eye squinted open. Just as if he were some fearsome beast awoken from its lengthy slumber, angry and, hungry. For that was indeed how she felt. How would he react to her in the light of day? 

With a groan, the Hound sat upright, legs outstretched, and took a swig from his flagon, glaring bleary daggers at Sansa. He was clearly still drunk. 

"So, the little bird finally escaped her cage. Joffrey will have the Gold Cloaks after you by now, as you well know. There will be no leaving this house girl, or both our heads will find themselves removed from their bodies." He managed to get to his feet, swaying slightly, then thinking better of it, leaned back heavily against the door. "You're fortunate though, as I don't have any duties today or tomorrow... but after that, I have a job to do that takes me far away from the capitol." He blew a great gust of air from his nose, just like a bull. "South, this time. I... could take you with me." His rough voice trailed off and he looked away, this time he could not meet her eyes, giving her the burned side of his face instead. 

"Yes." 

Sansa watched as his mouth twitched upward. A gesture she was only slightly bewildered to realize she had missed. 

"Does something amuse you, ser?" Sansa crossed her arms. 

He pushed himself off from the door, suddenly towering over her. Shaking his head and laughing his snarling laugh. "Aye, woman. You look as though you've been drug through all the damned seven hells." His face turned back to her, smiling, something Sansa didn't think she had ever truly seen, but it was gone in an instant. A burst of sun on a cloudy day. He gestured around them, arms wide. "No hand maidens here, little bird. Go wash up and I'll fix something for us to eat, you ought to be hungry." He gave her one last lingering look, from her worn boots slowly up until his deep gray eyes were staring straight into her blue. Her knees went weak and she swallowed thickly. And suddenly the Hound was ducking around the corner. Not for the first time it struck her how eerily quick he moved for a man of his size.

Sansa felt flushed, slightly offended, and honestly a bit puzzled. She stood pondering their exchange for a moment, then turned back around toward the bedroom. In a drawer beneath some papers she found a looking glass. It was smudged and broken, but when she finally saw her reflection in the mirror she gasped. She truly looked a fright. Wisps and strands of hair sticking out of her wrap every which way, purple circles under her eyes, dirt and grime from the bowels of the Red Keep slashed a mark on her forehead just above one eyebrow. Tear stains lined her filthy cheeks. She looked down at her hands, scraped and bruised, filth thick under her nails. With a tiny huff she went through another door to the house's modest privy. A plain brown pitcher of water sat on a shelf next to a grungy rag, so she scrubbed at herself as best she could, water droplets occasionally falling to the stone floor. Shivering, she unwrapped her hair from its cloth and tried to work through it with her fingers, finishing with a braid. Checking her reflection one last time, satisfied with looking a mite better, she made her way back out to the front room.

A table and chair was to her right, the only other furniture being a small book shelf. Sansa followed her nose around the corner to the kitchen area on the left. The Hound, stooped over, cooking sausages over a wood stove, was not something she could have guessed, not even in an age, that she would ever see. 

"And do you wield that fork as well as you do your sword, my lord?" Sansa stood, hands clasped, as he turned toward her. 

"Aye."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry it's so short and I'm very sorry its taken so long!

**Author's Note:**

> I had meant for this to be a one shot but well, you know how it goes... more to come soon!


End file.
